Under the Sand
by trilliumg
Summary: Left on his own for a few days, Dean gets into trouble on a rare trip to the beach.
1. Chapter 1

No. Sam did _not_ just say that.

"You're gonna _what_?" Dean's magazine landed on the bed, and his head swiveled around so fast he almost gave himself whiplash.

Sam was standing in front of the door to their motel room with his hands on his hips, laughing that disbelieving laugh he always gave when he couldn't comprehend how dumb somebody was being.

"An ashram. Yoga, you know? There's this place near Malibu, been in business since the eighties. They put you on this strict diet, send you out hiking 15 miles a day, weight training, meditation, the whole nine yards." He frowned, then looked down and patted his belly. "We have a few days off. I wanna work off some of those burgers you're always making me eat."

_God_, his brother was a ninny sometimes. "Let me get this straight," Dean said. "You get some free time and you're gonna go all lettuce-leaves-and-seaweed-wraps with a bunch of crunchy-granola hippie-dippies who think meditation is a spectator sport?" He rolled his eyes. "Whatever, man. We're in California. That means two things. Beaches and babes." He paused. "Oh. And beer."

Sam's brow furrowed. "Don't worry, _posse magnet_, I can drop you off in Laguna Beach so you can do…whatever it is you do," he said, looking like he'd bitten into a lemon. "I'll be back in a couple of days to pick you up."

Oh, Sam didn't just say _that_, either. Dean jumped to his feet. "Nuh-uh. No way. I'll drop you off at your ass-ram and go back to Laguna myself. You're not takin' my baby anywhere near that freak show."

Sam sighed. "Dean, that's almost two hundred more miles. It doesn't make any sense."

Dean crossed his arms and glared at his brother. "The answer is no."

~oOoOoOoOoO~

The sign read, "Aliso Beach Park." Here he was, finally. Sam had talked his ear off all the way to Malibu—it would be great to have some peace and quiet. Dean slowed the Impala and turned into the parking lot. This was supposed to be one of the nicest beaches in the area, not too busy, not too secluded. Someplace he could mind his own business and check out the scenery, 'til he was ready to not mind his own business.

Normally, he didn't do beaches. He'd told that little hiker girl back in Blackwater Ridge, "Oh, sweetheart…I don't do shorts," and that was totally true. But unless you wanted to look like a creeper, the only way to immerse yourself in bikinis if you weren't at an auto show or a strip club was to go and strip yourself, and get out on the sand with everybody else. It didn't happen often, but every once in a while, the urge struck him. Luckily he had his dad's coloring. His skin never got white enough to send all the chicks running for the hills.

He put the car in park and shut off the engine. Damn, did his legs look weird, sticking out of a pair of tan and green swim trunks. He stared at his toes, sticking out of his new flip-flops, and tried to remember the last time they'd seen the sun. Then got out of the car, rummaged in the back seat for the towel he'd borrowed from the front desk of the motel back in Laguna Beach, grabbed his cooler, and locked the car doors.

The crowd out on the sand was sparse, populated by a few blue umbrellas. There were a few teenagers surfing—mostly guys, of course, but a couple of girls, too. He pulled off his flip-flops and headed toward the ocean, aiming for a spot to the far left of everyone else, feeling the hot, dry sand squish up between his toes. About twenty feet shy of the water, he stopped and laid out his towel, then pulled a beer out of the cooler. He took a coupe of gulps, then laid back on the towel and put his arm over his eyes.

What the hell was wrong with Sammy, anyway? Ashrams? Meditation? _Cleansing regimens?_ Hadn't Sam permanently avoided all that yuppy bullshit when he left Stanford? Oh, well. Dude's loss. Here he was, getting beer-drowsy in the sun on one of the nicest beaches in the state, and his brother was on a six-hundred-calorie diet, doing downward dog with a bunch of uptight suburban women in yoga pants.

"Hey, stranger."

Dean lifted his arm, squinted into the sun, and found himself looking up at two girls. They were a few years younger than him, and both in good shape. One had long, wavy brown hair and freckles, and was wearing a yellow one-piece. _Whatever_. The second one was a blonde in a bikini, but her face was like that pug's, that little dog that used to live next door to them back in Lawrence.

Oh, well. Might as well be polite. "Hey. What are you ladies up to?"

They'd brought their towels with them, so they sat down and accepted the beers he offered and made small talk for a while. The brunette was in school at UCSD and the blonde had just graduated from USC, and they'd decided to hit the beach for a couple of days after her graduation party. A psych major and a med student, probably Dean's List and in four years had never had a bong hit. _Yawn._

Twenty minutes in, he started to get bored.

"Well," he said, raising his bottle, "I gotta meet my brother soon, and I need a long walk first, so I'll see you girls later."

"You have a brother?" the brunette asked, trying hard not to look excited. She probably figured she'd be the one to be left out, if he was gonna choose. She was wrong.

"Yeah, but he's not feeling too well, you know, I'm, uh, here to help look after him after he gets out of the hospital this evening. Kidney stone." Dean made a face.

"Oh." They both looked disappointed now.

He laughed to himself. _Still got it._

He finished his goodbyes, smiled and waved, and walked back to the car to stow his stuff. Then he walked back out toward the water and headed south along the shoreline.

Sand and surf weren't really his thing, but you know, once in a while, it was nice to get away from the death and blood and things that went bump in the night. What was that quote, the one from _Repo Man_? "Ordinary fuckin' people. I hate 'em!" But you really couldn't blame them, all these people with no idea what the world was really like, who didn't see past the nose on their face and took their daily lives for granted.

He hadn't gotten far when a flash of color caught his eye. He'd been looking to his left, at the dark cliff walls, when…yep, there it was again. Red. Red…bikini. Whoa, wait a minute. Red _hair._

Things were about to get a lot more interesting.


	2. Chapter 2

The ocean breeze ruffled his hair as he walked toward the palm-topped cliffs. From what he could tell, she was lying on a tan beach blanket, feet facing the water, in the shadow of one of the towering walls of rock. That was sort of odd. Not a great way to get a suntan.

As he drew closer, his throat tightened a little. She was looking like Miss America material. She had one knee up, and her lightly tanned skin was coated with oil. Her eyes were closed, and her dark red hair was fanned out over the towel.

Dean cleared his throat. "Ariel?"

She rolled her head toward him and opened her eyes. Green. Close enough. She had freckles on her nose, but not many elsewhere. Rare for a redhead.

"I'm sorry?"

"Ariel, right? The Little Mermaid?"

She laughed and propped herself up on her elbows. "I guess that makes you Prince Eric?"

"Eh," Dean said, and smiled his most crooked smile. "Too goody two-shoes for my taste. Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all."

He spread his blanket out beside hers and sat down facing the wall, so they could talk. He pulled his knees to his chest. It was good tactics. "Odd place to get a suntan," he said, looking around. "But it seems to be working out for you."

"A few more minutes and the sun'll light this place up," she said. "I was taking a break."

"Live around here?"

"Yeah, just up the road. You?"

"Nah."

They chatted for a couple of minutes, until he noticed the necklace she was wearing. They looked like ivory beads at first, maybe a quarter-inch apiece, but when he looked closer he could make out tiny little eye sockets, teeth, and jawbones.

"That's an interesting necklace you've got there," he said. "What's it made of?"

"Right, _that's_ what you're staring at," she said, with a knowing grin. "What's it made of? Not ivory, if that's what you're thinking. Bone, maybe? I found these beads on a beach in China, actually. I had to go there once for work. I think someone lost them. They spoke to me, somehow. You know, one of those things you know you're only gonna see once. So I grabbed them. When I got home, I restrung them myself."

"You a model? That necklace doesn't quite fit the rest of your image," he said, giving her a once-over.

"I am." She was staring at him intently. "And you sure don't know me well enough to say that."

He raised an eyebrow. "Don't I?"

She didn't flinch.

Oh, yeah. This was _on_.

He leaned over to kiss her, and sure enough, she raised herself up to meet him. In no time she had her tongue in his mouth, and then she was whispering, "There's a little cave right over there, whaddaya say we check it out?"

She was right; this place was quiet, but it was still broad daylight. He looked toward the water and saw the father of a family of three looking their way.

"Sure, yeah. Let's go."

He watched her tight little ass wiggle as she led him by the hand. The cave wasn't far, a couple hundred feet at most. Its mouth was only about three feet wide, hidden in the crags and shadows. He'd never have noticed it on his own.

"All the high-school kids know about this place, but they avoid it during the day," she said with a giggle.

They were only about ten feet in when he pushed her up against the wall, leaned on his right forearm, and put his other hand on her waist. She responded by putting her hands on his hips and pulling him into her. He was right; just his type! "Damn, Ariel, I knew you were feisty, but—"

"Shut up," she said, and kissed him hard. Man, she was gonna send him to the dentist at this rate. She pulled his hand from her waist and pushed it up to her breast, and he could feel her nipple harden through the nylon/spandex of her bikini top. Her left hand was still pulling him into her, and in a minute they had a nice grinding rhythm going and he was trying to figure out his next move and he was glad the sand was wet beneath their feet because dry sand could be a real pain in…

Suddenly, he fell forward. What the…? She was gone!

Then he saw stars, and everything went black.


End file.
